


a flower that grows within

by allu-ria (waffelingaround)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (like really mild), Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Mild Gore, Minor Injuries, Plants, Sick Character, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 05:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12905388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waffelingaround/pseuds/allu-ria
Summary: Magic isdangerous, magic isillegal, magic is… what causes his shuddering as he tries to keep flowers and branches inside him whenever he gets too worked up. Magic is what causes his exhaustion, what causes him to be so tired on days he can’t control it very well. Magic is what wakes him up at night, choking him with thorns on his throat, along with nightmares of getting found out.Magic is a part of Oikawa Tooru.__But one day, he's found by a mysterious figure named Kuroo Tetsurou, who invites him to learn how to control his abilities on the Other Side, a world full of magic and mythical creatures living in harmony.And that's where he meets Akaashi Keiji.





	1. daffodil

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was written for hqbb 2017, with artist [altimys](http://altimysart.tumblr.com/) and beta [akira](amajikies.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
> Working on this was lots of fun, and even if it was hard to schedule everything because of school, we managed to (somehow) get through it! We all worked very hard on this, and i'm eternally grateful for the opportunity have such a talented artist and helpful beta with me throughout the journey. I hope everyone reading this enjoys ^^;;

_"A man carries a flower for three reasons:_

 

  1. _He is in love_
  2. _He is in mourning_
  3. _He is a flower salesman_



 

_...I am not a flower salesman. that is the only thing I know."_

_\- Picking flowers, Nate Marshall_

 

* * *

 

 

Oikawa Tooru, as much as he hates to admit it, looks like shit today.

No amount of makeup can save the bags under his eyes, or the too-pale color of his skin this time, and the concerned looks he keeps on getting from Iwaizumi is a clear sign that he looks terrible. His fingers tap against his desk anxiously, in tune to the ticking clock of the classroom. His teacher’s words are more like background noise, barely processing in his mind, especially with the headache that pounds through his skull.

He wants to sleep — he _needs_ to sleep, and he finds himself slipping until the sound of a pencil hitting the floor jolts him awake. It takes him a second to realize it was _his_ — and while leaning down to pick it up, Iwaizumi whispers to him.

“You okay?”

A rhetorical question, of course. Tooru isn’t sure why he’s even asking. To humor him, Tooru simply shoots his Iwaizumi his typical smile, the one he usually reserves for his pushy fangirls or for rude strangers. “Just _peachy.”_

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrow at that, and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but then he takes a glance at their teacher and lets the matter go. It’s not like his best friend can give him a lecture about self-care in the middle of class, and this seems to frustrate him. He gives Tooru one last look before crossing his arms, turning his attention back to the teacher. 

After all, this isn’t the first time he’s come to school, fidgety for no apparent reason. One would expect Iwaizumi to let the matter go at this point (Tooru’s been like this on random days all throughout high school, although he’s been pulling all nighters more frequently as of late, which makes his jumpiness worse) but despite how often the situation crops up, he always manages to hear at least one lengthy lecture through his lunch. He looks to the clock with apprehension — speaking of lunchtime, there’s only a few minutes left until they’re dismissed for break. The thought of having to deal with his concerned-yet-aggressive friend, along with Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s _usual_ antics makes him sigh with regret.

Maybe he can escape to the bathroom. As much as he hates the dirty, disgusting place, it’s the only way he can get rid of all this _excess energy_ under his skin. Just thinking about it makes his legs bounce, makes his muscles strain with the effort of not running out immediately. His sweaty palms fumble with his pen as he tries to take some notes, even if he’s not entirely focused (it’s in vain, he knows, because when _it_ gets like this he rarely absorbs enough lesson material to write down coherent sentences). 

His teacher is talking now, while looking at all of them rather than at the board. Something in Tooru’s mind says that he should _really_ pay attention now, because this could be something important, but then the bell rings and his thoughts scatter like wildfire. _Damn, has that always been that loud?_ He can barely hear anything as he stumbles to get up and out as fast as possible, to _move move move –_ anything to get away from his teacher’s piercing gaze.

Iwaizumi isn’t that far behind him, grabbing his shoulder so that they don’t lose each other in the mass of crowding students. His grip is firm, guiding him through until he miraculously finds himself at the cafeteria. He can already see Hanamaki and Matsukawa sitting at their usual spots — they wave the two of them over.

Their cafeteria is rather huge, with long tables that stretch in rows, a line of students almost always crowding the entrance as they wait for their food. Tooru and his friends usually sit near the middle of the room, close to the wide windows that line up the wall opposite of the kitchen. Thankfully, today he has a packed lunch, and he saves himself from another migraine by skipping the line and heading straight to the other third years.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, trying to hide his exhaustion. He sits across from the two and resists the immediate urge to lay down on the open bench and fall asleep.

“Not at all,” Matsukawa responds a beat later. His hair is curly as always, chopsticks pointed at him with narrowed eyes. “It looks like _you_ missed us, though. Don’t tell me it’s one of those days again.” 

“Oh, it’s _one of those days_ ,” Iwaizumi grumbles, taking a seat next to him. “Almost fell asleep in Sato-sensei’s class. Can you believe it? I swear I thought sensei was going to burn Oikawa with his glare.” 

Tooru just smiles weakly. “I though _you_ were gonna burn me with a glare!” _‘Those days’_ are when he, for some inexplicable reason he refuses to say, becomes jittery and anxious and exhausted. In his entire lifetime of knowing Iwaizumi, and in his 3 year friendships with Hanamaki and Matsukawa, they still haven’t been able to figure out why.

Iwaizumi thinks he’s just overworking himself with schoolwork. Matsukawa and Hanamaki think he’s still obsessed with conspiracy theories (which he _isn’t,_ for the record, it was strictly a middle-school phase. Sort of.) and he’s only tired because he spent the night hunting for aliens.

“Damn,” Hanamaki says. He takes a bit of rice before continuing. “Like, no offense but, you look worse than you usually do on _those days._ You’re more… dead looking. Almost zombie-like.

“ _Excuse_ me?” for their sake, and probably his own as well, he gives the three of them the most offended look he can make. Opening his lunch box, he swallows at the sight of milk bread — a sight that would usually energize him, but today he feels nothing. “There’s no way someone like me can look like anything _but_ a perfect human being.”

  
“If you’re what a perfect human being is supposed to look like, I’m concerned for the entire human race,” Iwaizumi says. Tooru spots a cup of yoghurt in Iwaizumi’s lunch and instinctively tries to take it. The other easily swats his hand away, and everything seems normal for just a second, _just a second._

Then his arm flops onto the table and Tooru slouches. “Iwa-chan, you’re so mean. I’m having a bad day today. You should be nice,” he whines. 

“Seriously though, what’s wrong?” he asks instead of responding. “You seemed fine yesterday, and it’s not like we have any upcoming tests or assignments you need to stay up for.” 

Tooru isn’t sure what to say to that — there’s a _lot_ wrong, and he really doesn’t want to think about it, because yesterday he and his mother had a _talk_ concerning all the things Tooru is trying to avoid, and then of  _course_ he woke up in the middle of the night because— because of _that,_ and he only managed to get three hours of sleep in total because he was too anxious to go back to bed. 

“I’m _telling_ you, Oikawa is just spending his nights going out to see if aliens will finally send him a message,” Matsukawa snickers.

Tooru throws up his hands. “That was _one time_ Mattsun! I only asked to you guys to join me _once!_ And it never happened again!”

Hanamaki lifts an eyebrow. “Really? You _never_ went out again after that? Not even once?”

“W-Well,” he sputters, “I mean, only maybe two times more. But I _stopped_ after _middle school,_ I swear!”

The two aren’t listening, too busy laughing. Tooru glares into his food, which hasn’t gotten any more appetizing since the start of the lunch period. He thought it would be easier to handle out of class, but his shaking fingers say otherwise — he needs to move, get out, _now._

He suddenly stands up, trying to hide the tremors going through his body. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he announces. He internally winces at how choppy his words come out.

“Did you drink milk at breakfast again?” Iwaizumi asks with a glare. “If you’re tired because of something stupid like that I’m going to hit you.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan! I can’t help that I’m lactose-intolerant, okay?!”

“Ah, so it’s just a bad case of the shits,” Hanamaki says, nodding sagely. “Why do you keep eating shit like milk bread if you know you’re going to suffer like this later anyways?”

 _I can’t stand still like this much longer. I need to get out, get out, get_ it _out, now._ Tooru manages to make a face, though, legs jumping up and down. “No matter what my body says, I will love milk bread forever. Even if it kills me. Even if I have to use the bathroom”

“Idiot,” Iwaizumi just mutters. They all know how much Tooru hates the school bathrooms, because he likes complaining about them all the time. The only time he ever uses it is when he eats lactate without eating his medication first, or when it’s one of those days (but nobody really knows the difference between the two, only he does).

Something pulses under his skin — he’s been standing still for too long, and that _something_ is struggling to come out.

“Bathroom,” he says weakly, finally running off. He hears the knowing sighs of everyone, and someone whispers the words _“when Is he gonna start taking care of himself? Someone remind him to take his meds next time—“_ before he quickly heads towards where he needs to go. Today he can’t go outside — there were students, meaning he’ll be seen if he does.

The headache is back, amplified with each step.

When he opens the heavy bathroom door, it squeaks from the strain. Thankfully, no one is there, but the pungent smell that assaults his nose almost makes him turn around — _almost._

(But there’s no way he can turn back, no way he _will_ turn back, because if he doesn’t get rid of it right away the chances of him being found out increases to a dangerous percentage. He doesn’t like thinking about what’ll happen then).

Just to be safe, he enters a stall for privacy. Almost immediately after he locks the door, something in his body just _lets go,_ and the control he was struggling to maintain throughout the day quickly dissipates.

Green vines sprout from his arms, curling around with budding leaves, draping green sheets as Tooru shakes from the strain. Petals grow from his hair, around his face, up his neck, painting his skin red with speckles of black and yellow. Roots twist through his veins as big, leafy plant-life emerges from his fingers, breaking through skin to wrap around Tooru like a living terrarium.

And in that moment, he’s glad — so, so glad because he’s lactose intolerant, because if it weren’t for that small fact he wouldn’t have a solid excuse as for why he needs so desperately to be alone when he goes away to the bathroom for long periods of time.

After all, lactose intolerance is normal. Lactose intolerance is something a human has, something he can act embarrassed about.

Magic — magic is something that isn’t any of those things. Magic is dangerous, magic is illegal, magic is… magic is what causes his shuddering as he tries to keep flowers and branches inside him whenever he gets too worked up. Magic is what causes his exhaustion, what causes him to be so tired on days he can’t control it very well. Magic is what wakes him up at night, choking him with thorns on his throat, along with nightmares of getting found out.

Magic is a part of Oikawa Tooru.

There’s no other explanation for how wrinkled petals find themselves sprouting from the lines of his palm, knees overrun with grass and wildflowers, every part of his body a living, breathing garden that turns the hairs on his scalp into tiny treetops that shade the blossoming fruit leaves that come from his collarbone.

He remembers when this first happened — he had been alone, thankfully, and smart enough not to mention it to anyone. He knew how magic-users were treated, understood the looks of terror and scorn people would get when it was brought up. 

He remembers learning about where this magic even came from.  He remembers learning about creatures from the Other side, a place of monsters from myths, living their own lives, separate from their own society. 

He remembers how horribly these monsters were depicted, how they were painted as killers and animals who thirsted for human blood.

 (He remembers trying to hide his powers, and getting bruises all over his body from the backlash). 

He’s gotten better at regulating his magic to leave only the smallest of marks, if any, but today he knows there’s going to be a bit more than just a small scratch, just judging from the soreness of his arms. It’s not that his hurts — despite the fact that things are literally protruding from under his skin, it doesn’t hurt, not at all. It never did (in fact, it feels better to let it out rather than keep it in).

But even if his body breaks and bruises, even if he can barely get through a day without wanting to collapse from the stress of having to keep everything in, he’s kept this secret for 11 years straight and doesn’t intend to break it anytime soon. He can’t allow himself to slip up in a world where magic is rejected _._ Especially in front of his best friends.

Especially in front of Iwaizumi.

As soon as the last of the flowers are drawn back in, skin closing up as if nothing happened, he finds himself able to breathe again. His headache is gone, sort of, and Tooru spends the next minute fixing himself up in the dirtied mirrors. 

_I’m human, he tells himself, before going out again. I’m human, I’m normal, and there’s nothing wrong with me. Mom and Onee-chan is normal too, so why wouldn’t I be? I don’t know anything about magic, except that it exists and that I hate it. I just had a bad stomachache from eating too much milk bread and cereal in the morning._

(the lies itch, causes his fingers to tingle). 

With one last look in the mirror, Tooru puts on his mask, slips on a smile, and steps out with a spring in his step.

 

* * *

 

The night is silent, except for the sound of dripping water from a leaky faucet in the bathroom.

 _“Tooru?” his mother calls from the kitchen — the table is already set with breakfast. There’s a lunchbox there for him to take as well, neatly wrapped and ready to go. Tooru takes a seat and tiredly digs in, not quite fully awake._

Every few minutes, he can also hear the sound of rustling wind. Cars never pass by his section of the neighborhood, especially this late, but the serene peace he usually feels right before dawn isn’t there, replaced by the feeling of suffocation.                                 

_“Yeah, mom?” he asks, after a few bites._

_There’s a breath, a moment of hesitation. Then, she speaks with caution in her voice. “I know you don’t like talking about this… but I got a call from your teacher.”_

_Tooru freezes and almost chokes on his food, chest tight with sudden anxiety._

He’s been staring emptily at his ceiling for the past hour now. His eyelids are drooping, but for some reason, sleep doesn’t find him. His fingers twitch — is he dreaming? Or is he awake? Maybe he’s in between, he can’t tell.

 _“She says you still haven’t talked to your guidance counselor about university, and that your grades are dropping. Just because you’re a senior doesn’t mean you can slack off, you know. Your teacher is just trying to help, and you should take her advice while you_ can–“

 _“Mom,” he interrupts, putting his chopsticks down. “Mom. I don’t want to talk about this._

_“Then when do you want to talk about this? You’re running out of time, I hope you know.”_

Suffocation. He can’t breathe.

_He hasn’t finished his breakfast yet, but he gets up and starts getting ready anyways. “Trust me, mom. I have everything under control. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”_

_They both know Tooru isn’t going to do any talking, but he leaves before his mother can protest._

_He knows what she’s thinking, knows what everyone thinks — that he doesn’t know what he wants to do, that he doesn’t care for his future. That he wants to spend the rest of his school year just relaxing. “Senoritis already, I guess you could say!” says his sister jokingly, trying to hide her concern._

_How he wishes that were true._

_Tooru clenches his fist and lets out a sigh, green buds popping out from his palms before detaching and fluttering to the sidewalk. The wind takes them away, leaving no evidence behind._

_It’s better like this, he tries to tell himself, it’s better to act like he doesn’t care at all. Because even if he tried, even if he were honest about his what he really wanted to do, to pursue, he’ll never make it past high school._

_At a school where trained monster hunters and blood-checks are as common as students, there’s no way he’ll be able to have a normal life without getting caught. If the bloodwork they require at the start of semesters doesn’t give him away, the hundreds of cameras installed all over university campuses will surely catch him in the act of growing_ something _or the other._

_It makes sense — as unfair as it is for him, it makes sense. There have been too many ‘accidents,’ too many deaths and injuries from monsters disguised as students. Technically he can beg and explain his situation, but in reality, he really doesn’t have a chance._

_If he goes to university, at best he’ll be put to jail._

_Just for existing._

_He hates it, he hates it, but it’s better that he pretends that he doesn’t care, it’s better that he doesn’t try, because no matter what he does he’ll be rejected._

_But who’s ever heard of a half-human astrophysicst though? His dream seem so foolish. As if he could ever make it anywhere even if he_ did _go to school. Skipping university altogether is the best option he has, because then he could at least hide a bit longer, stay out of sight for as long as possible…_

_…yet he… he—_

—he wakes up to the sound of his own, heavy breathing.

There’s a blanket of autumn leaves all over his bed, the gnarly branches protruding from his forearms already blooming again. Flowers tickle his ears as they sprout from his hair, spilling over and fluttering past his eyes. Green buds pop from his palms, just like from his dream.

Although, it was less of a dream and more of a vivid replay of that horrible morning. Tooru checks his bedside clock, the numbers _5:13_ glaring back at him in luminescent red. He feels more tired than usual, most likely do to the extra stress from trying to avoid his mom _and_ his teacher _and_ his friends all day.

(He wonders how long he can keep it up, wonders when he’ll have the strength to say the words _I’m not applying to university_ even if he doesn’t want to.) 

Tooru looks out the window — as expected, Iwaizumi’s room is dark. A part of him wishes he could telepathically communicate to him to _wake up,_ but his powers, unfortunately, seem to be related to only plants.

The clouds move and moonlight shines through his window, momentarily lighting up his arms. He has to admit the sight isn’t exactly _pretty._ Aside from the small bruises littered around, the dark stems jutting through his veins look like pulsing parasites. There’s a bit of blood from where the branch comes from, rough bark slightly tearing the skin around it. A part of him wonders what kind of tree it is that’s growing through him, but he quickly squishes the thought.

(He’s never bothered to learn the names of any of the things that grow from him, and it’s probably better he never does).

He can still hear the sound of the faucet. Tooru tries not to think about his dream too much as he settles back into bed—doing so will only cause more negative emotions, which’ll lead to more cleanup for tomorrow morning. Sure, his plants usually just retreat back into his body after a while, but the stray petals and leaves that fall out during the process don’t just disappear (although he wishes they could). He has to manually pick them up before either throwing them away or absorbing it back into his skin. 

The thought of someone finding his room, full of broken bark and fallen flowers, makes his skin crawl. 

But in the darkness, there’s nothing to be afraid of, nothing to hide. In the day he lives in fear, but when the world goes to sleep _this_ part of him wakes up, the part of him that doesn’t care if he’s using magic or not. There’s no one awake, no sound, nobody there to see his true nature. Spindly branches grow from his knees, his ankles, his chest, reaching up into the ceiling and revealing bright, yellow flowers that glisten in the night.

They are his stars, and Tooru doesn’t need a degree in astrophysics to know their orbit. He is, after all, their sun. A star himself.

 

* * *

 

The next night, Tooru finds himself unable to sleep, _again._

School had been tiring as ever. Throughout the entire day, he had been on edge, and even going to the bathroom and releasing excess magic hadn’t helped his jittery mood. Somehow, he managed to hide his discomfort with well-timed jokes throughout the day.        

But even now, the fidgety feeling is still there, like an annoying itch that can’t quite be scratched.

He shifts in his bed, trying to get comfortable, but it isn’t easy. There are no stars painting his room tonight — there’s too much trying to come out at the moment, and if he lets go he might drown under the weight of his own flowers.

But he needs to _move._ Almost mechanically, he finds himself finally opening a window, the late-spring air a refreshing breeze. Through muscle memory he removes the wire mesh that separates his room and the outside world before carefully climbing out. Thankfully, Iwaizumi’s room is dark, meaning he’s sleeping and won’t know that Tooru is sneaking out. 

It also means it’s well past midnight. He doesn’t bother to check the time for specifics, though. As long as he can stay unnoticed, he’s okay.  
  
There are no shoes to cover the bruises on his ankles and he winces every so often under the strain, but even so he continues to march forward. There’s something therapeutic about spontaneous late-night walks, and the little forested park he approaches brings comforting childhood memories.  
  
This is where he goes when the nights get too long, when he can’t contain everything in just one room. It’s where he goes when he needs a breather, when he needs an entire forest to hide himself.

His feet lead him to a familiar hiking path. He used to frequent this place with Iwaizumi often during the summer of elementary school days. The dirt is well worn from the years upon years of sneakers and other shoes plodding through, and with his soles bare, he can feel much more than just what he steps on. Somehow, without even closing his eyes, Tooru can sense the thicket of roots that grow deep under, the small vein-like tendrils from the unkempt grass fields. He can feel seeds just barely pushing themselves to breathe in the air, the life that swarms under surface level, the life of the forest.

He walks through about half the trail, where the moonlight is the thinnest. Without hesitation this time, Tooru sighs and releases the heavy tension in his shoulders.

The earth trembles beneath him. The weeks and weeks of unhealthy built-up stress bursting from his body isn’t a pleasant sight. The sound of skin ripping and things tearing apart sounds harsh and jarring to his own ears — but at the same time, something about the cathartic moment feels as natural as breathing, almost feels _relieving –_ and soon enough, Tooru is wrapped in his own garden.

Flowers, vines, roots, and other plant-life extends from his body. It would look mysteriously beautiful if it weren’t for the blood pooling at his feet, lightly dripping from his arms and legs as his body shudders, trying to adjust to the sudden outbreak. A part of him wonders if the bleeding is always supposed to happen, or if it’s a side effect from trying to repress his magic for so long.

Tooru isn’t sure how long he stands there — long enough for the plants to settle, he guesses — but soon, he finally starts feeling empty, refreshed, _clean._ His spine sags from the strained effort, suddenly tired and exhausted. The process of getting everything to reverse itself takes a while, and his bones begin to creak as his body structure tries to rearrange itself.

It’s when he begins to walk, palms enclosed around the last that he sees him. 

The moonlight illuminates the figure of a boy who looks no older than him, although he seems to be a bit taller. Messy, dark hair hides half a pair of glowing eyes that dilate in the light. His clothes are dark, _moving,_ as if they were woven with the shadows of the night, melting into the air around him.

He smiles at Tooru, revealing sharp canines. “Quite an impressive show… you’ve got some powerful magic, kid.”

The words make his blood turn to ice. _“Who are you?”_ He says, unable to keep the quivering fear out of his voice. _And what are you doing here?_  

“Me? I’m just a cat.”

Tooru blinks, and in the place of the stranger is, true to his word, a black cat, with the same piercing eyes and unnerving smile.

“Sorry, wrong question,” Tooru says with a nervous laugh. His legs tremble, ready to run at any moment despite the pain that comes from trying to move. “I meant to say, _what_ are you?”

He can’t believe that there’s another magic user — another _monster_ — out here. Had he been watching the entire time? His process hadn’t been a quiet one. While not loud enough to alert the neighborhood, it was certainly loud enough for this stranger to have heard. Was he someone Tooru knew?  
  
_Would he finally be found out?_

The thought makes him want to bolt as fast as possible.

“How rude. I said I was a cat, already. A _black_ cat if you want to be specific,” the stranger says. “Black cats are a sign of bad luck, but… I think you’ll get a nice surprise soon. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, you’ll know soon enough. Sorry to cut our first meeting so short, but I’m running out of time. Catch you later?” 

And then, with a wink, he disappears.

He stands there for a few moments longer, waiting for something to happen, for someone to jump from behind and yell _freeze! We know your secret!_

But nothing happens. The winds change course, signaling the start of a new day.

With shaky steps, Tooru makes his way back, the sun already about to rise, it’s golden rays peering out from the horizon. He rushes to get back into the safety of his room, away from any more prying eyes. 

Washing the blood from his body, Tooru decides that the cat-human _thing_ had to be an illusion. A hallucination induced by his exhaustion. There’s no other explanation for it — if it were real, if there were truly another magical human around who knew his secret, Tooru would go crazy.

_Better to pretend it never happened. Better to pretend it was all a dream._

(he reminds himself to take a different hiking path the next time he goes out).

 

* * *

 

Tooru is seven years old when he decides to tell Iwaizumi his secret.

It’s winter, the cold air making him shiver against his scarf, Iwaizumi sitting right next to him. Their noses are red from the weather, each holding a warm mug of hot chocolate. It’s quiet between the two of them as they rest, the snow-filled backyard full of mini forts, half-finished snowmen, and hundreds of footprints.

Tooru swings his feet back and forth, the back of his boots sending powdered snow flying from the staircase they’re on. The overcast clouds above them seem to hang ominously, as if promising rain, maybe even more snow.

He’s been wanting to share with Iwaizumi for a long time, and in the peacefulness of the situation he finally feels ready. It’s something he hasn’t even told his own _sister or mother,_ and the thought of Iwaizumi being the only one with his secret makes him feel… _excited._ He’s tired of trying to hide this from his best friend. 

Magic is fun, _amazing._ He wants Iwaizumi to think the same too. 

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah, Iwa-chan?” He says immediately, looking up from his mug. Iwaizumi’s tone was —serious, and his expression is the same, with furrowed eyebrows.

“Theres… something I want to tell you,” he starts hesitantly. “Something I’ve wanted to share for a while. Dad said not to tell anyone, but I think you should know.”

He looks nervous, a strange expression withal the baby-fat still on his face.

Tooru’s eyes widen. ‘ _Me too,’_ He wants to say, _‘I want to share something too,’_ but he swallows the words, saving them for later. Instead, he asks, “What is it?”

He can’t believe his luck.

 _This is perfect. a secret for a secret._ He can confess to Iwaizumi about his magic after, and then they’ll be even. They’ll both know something about each other that nobody else knows. Something only a _best friend_ would know. He wonders what it is, speculates that it _must_ be an incredibly important deal for Iwaizumi to go against what his dad’s words. 

It feels nice, to be trusted like this. 

But of all the things Iwaizumi could have said then, of all the possibilities Tooru could have imagined, nothing could have prepared him for the truth. For the first time in his life, Tooru would experience harsh reality. 

The words coming out of the other’s mouth is completely unexpected (but looking back, it’s nothing uncommon, nothing surprising, he should have seen it coming but _still—)_

“My mom… she’s… gone." 

He doesn’t get it at first. Iwaizumi shifts in his seat.

“…Gone?”

“Yeah.” His expression changes slightly. “Dad says the monsters took her.”

Something sinks in his stomach. He doesn’t like where this is going. “Monsters.” 

“You know—“ he pauses and makes some motions with his hands. “Magic. Scary things. The other side?”

“Right. Magic. Scary things. They…. Took your mom?” Tooru repeats a bit faintly. 

Iwaizumi looks behind him, as if someone is listening in, before leaning in close. “I’m telling you because I don’t want them to take you too.” In that moment, Iwaizumi looks scared, and _angry._ Tooru doesn’t know what to say in return. “I miss… I miss my mom. Promise you won’t disappear, okay? Promise you won’t let the monsters take you away. Dad says the monsters are even worse than bad people.”

 _(It’s so cruel,_ he thinks while looking back. _Seven year olds shouldn’t be afraid of death, afraid of abandonment. Not the way Iwaizumi was)._

Something unpleasant settles in Tooru’s chest, but he doesn’t quite understand the full gravity of the situation. He bites down questions like, _is she gone forever? Do you think you can ask the monsters and ask them to give her back? Where did they take her too?_ And nods solemnly along, holding out his pinky finger to _swear_ he wouldn’t the monsters take him, no _way._

 _I have my own magic to protect myself! Watch!_ He wants to say.

But he looks at Iwazumi, at his anger and _fear,_ and the words just don’t come out. 

He didn’t know it back then, but it wouldn’t be the first time he experienced bitter irony. The son of a monster, best friends with someone who’s parent was killed by a monster. A wielder of magic, closest to someone who despised it

_(Seven year olds shouldn’t be afraid of rejection, of being alone. Not the way Tooru was._

_But they were both afraid, seven year olds huddling in the cold, and maybe that’s where it all started.)_

Tooru’s other hand closes around some blooming petals, white as the snow around them. They wrinkle and shrivel in his palms. 

“Did you want to say something?” Iwaizumi asks after a moment, tilting his head, as if _sensing_ the hidden words at the back of Tooru’s throat.

He smiles at the other. “Nope! I’m good. But… thanks for telling me this, Iwa-chan. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Iwaizumi smiles back, but for some reason the sinking feeling won’t go away. After a few more minutes the two of them head inside, and they never really speak of it again.

Tooru is seven years old when Iwaizumi tells him his secret.  
  
Tooru never ends up sharing his own.

 

* * *

  

Tooru, somehow, actually ends up forgetting about the stranger he saw in the woods after passing it off as a trick on his mind. A few weeks pass without anything crazy happening (the first few days after the encounter, he had been on edge, wondering what the ‘nice surprise’ would be — but nothing had been out of the ordinary), but it’s when he’s at the local convience store to get some groceries that he sees him again.

The dark, messy hair and lean figure is unmistakeable. For a second, he’s frozen, and then Tooru quickly scrambles to hide behind the little aisle shelves, hoping the other doesn’t notice him.

The stranger notices him. 

And to his horror, he begins _walking_ towards him.

 _“Hey!”_ he calls out before Tooru can run away. “Have we met before?” It’s a question, but looking at the other’s bright gaze, they both know that they definitely _have_ met before. 

“I- I mean, I, uh,” Tooru starts eloquently. “I don’t really think th-”

The stranger grins. “Oh, we _definitely_ have. You were jogging by near the park, the other day! Never caught your name.”

Tooru hesitates at that. This person doesn’t seem like he’s going to _report_ him, like he first suspected, but maybe the fact that he can turn into a cat has something to do with that. Is it a thing for magical people to out each other? Probably not… right?

“What, not even a hello? Don’t be _rude_ , I know you can see and hear me.”

Or maybe he’s crazy. Maybe he’s officially gone crazy, and the amount of stress he’s been experiencing lately has finally pushed him over the edge. Maybe he’s hallucinating this, cat- _thing_ again, and if he tries hard enough he’ll disappear into smoke again.

He tries moving towards the cash registers, but the stranger grabs onto his wrist before he can move on.

_Okay, maybe not a hallucination._

“Are we really gonna do this? Don’t be difficult, I just wanna have a friendly conversation. So… what’s your name?”

Nothing about this seems friendly, but Tooru manages to make a face. “O-Oikawa Tooru,” he squeaks out, voice shaky. He feels a few vines pules from his forearm, and he shudders trying to suppress the magic. _Not here, not now, not in front of all these people._

“See, that wasn’t too hard, right?” he continues as if he doesn’t see Tooru’s discomfort. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. Do you need help with those?”

He points at Tooru’s basket, which is full of groceries. 

“N-no, I’m good! I was just about to check-out and leave, actually, so if you would excuse me…”

“Oh, that’s perfect! Do you have a moment to chat, then? There’s something I need to ask you.” Kuroo’s expression is coy as he smiles at him. He twitches back in annoyance. 

Tooru’s heart starts pounding. _This isn’t good, this isn’t good, this isn’t good… what the hell does he want from me?_

But Kuroo’s tone leaves no room for argument, and right now he really doesn’t want to upset the other. If things _really_ get out of hand, Tooru’s sure he can protect himself, as long as they move to a more remote location. “Sure,” he tries to say as nonchalantly as possible.

“Great!” Kuroo cheers, pushing Tooru forward. “Then let’s hurry and check out. I don’t have much time left.”

 

* * *

  

At first, they don’t go very far, but they’re far enough from other people that for Tooru to relax a bit. Plastic bags bounce against his legs with each step. Kuroo looks straight ahead, never looking back to see if he’s following along, but there’s something about the way he moves that makes Tooru feel like he’s being carefully watched.

The overhanging threes soon become familiar, and Tooru realizes they’re at the local park, around where they first met. He rarely comes by during the day anymore, and the filtered light feels warm and strangely reassuring as they stomp through the dirt-trodden path. In the corner of his eye he sees the main path, which leads to the playgrounds and front entrance, but Kuroo walks in the opposite direction and soon enough they’re so far that Tooru can’t see it anymore.

They keep going - Tooru is too scared to say anything and stays silent. He doesn’t know how long they walk, and at one point he stops trying to count the minutes that pass. Finally, after what seems like forever, his legs aching, Kuroo stops and turns around with a bemused expression. They’re in a little clearing, the thicket of trees opening up to reveal a little meadow with grass and small wildflowers.

 “We’re here!” Kuroo says. 

“Where is… here, exactly? Why did you bring me here, anyways?”

“That’s a very good question… but well. It’s a bit of a long explanation.

Tooru bristles at that. Now that he thinks about it, he probably shouldn’t have let the creepy, magical stranger lead him far into the woods, away from any civilization. He wonders if anyone will find his body if he dies. He shakes away the morbid thought with a sigh. 

Kuroo, for a second, seems to melt into the ground. Tooru blinks, and just like last time, there’s a shadowy black cat in his place.

There’s silence. 

“I’m dreaming, right?” Tooru says to himself. “Please tell me I’m dreaming. Or at least tell me why you pressured me to come here. I don’t care if it’s a long explanation.”

“Why so surprised?” the cat says with a big yawn. “It’s not like this is your first time seeing magic.”  
  
It’s then when Tooru notices the cat’s tail — the ends are split into two, like a long y.

“Please. Just tell me now. Am I crazy?” Tooru sits, feeling faint. He’s never had to deal with someone else’s magic and — having to talk to a talking cat is just a bit much. The day had started so well. How had he ended up like this? 

“I can _assure_ you, you’re not crazy. Simply put, I’ve brought you here because I wanted to… offer my services to you.”  
  
“Offer your services,” Tooru repeats blankly.

“Yep! Think of me like a… recruiter, or sorts. My job is to bring people like you to the Other Side.”

Tooru’s heart hammers against his chest. “Other side?” He laughs. “I-I don’t know why you would want to bring me _there._ I’m just a human anyway, so I think you have the wrong—“

“Are you sure about that?” Kuroo interrupts, eyes almost glowing in the fading sunlight. It’s dusk now, and Tooru just realizes the sky is no longer blue, but pink and orange with a strange haze around it. “Are you sure you’re just human?”

His head hurts. Tooru tries to swallow and winces at how dry his throat has become. “...My mother is a human,” he simply says, and the argument sounds weak even in his ears. “Doesn’t that mean I’m one too?”

 “Well, what about your dad?”

No answer.

“Well, see? You shouldn’t try to hide it.” Kuroo’s gaze arpens. “It’s not only dangerous to yourself, but also dangerous to others, when you try to suppress magic for that long. That’s why I’m here. I can bring you safely over. I can teach you how to control it. I can even help you submit a report to the police that won’t get you charged with anything.”

“But,” he hears himself say, because everything feel surreal and there _must_ be a catch.

“But… well. You’re gonna have to stay in the Other Side for a bit.” Somehow, the cat shrugs.

“So, for forever.” There is no crossing between worlds, it’s not allowed at all — at least, that’s what they’re told in school. But that brings up the question, how did _Kuroo_ end up in this world?

“Ah, not quite. Trust me, there are ways to legally pass between the border. How do you think I’m here?”

Tooru sighs. He doesn’t know what to say. “I’ve asked this before, but who… _are_ you?"

The cat grins. “Who am I? Well, I’m just your friendly neighborhood Nekomata-Witch. And I sense a lot of trapped magic in you. Aren’t you tired of running away? I can help. Really.”

Kuroo puts a paw lightly to the ground — and Tooru can’t help but let out a little gasp when light spills from his body, the earth trembling slightly before opening up, revealing a swirling pool of sparkling dust a few feet wide.

“As long as you’re with me, you’re safe to enter through here without raising any alarms. Before things get out of hand, you should come through and at least get to see what it’s like over there.”

Something cold and disgusting writhes inside Tooru. It’s slithers like ice through his veins, causes his fingers to tremble and breath pause in his lungs. It’s _fear,_ pooling at the bottom of his stomach, throwing all logic out the window.

“I can’t,” he whispers. “I don’t want to. I’m _human._ I… I don’t’ belong there.

“Deny it all you want, but the fact that you made it all the way here without getting lost is proof you’re not fully human. Did you know? This little portal area is accessible by creatures and holders of magic only. Let me say this from experience — living your life as a liar is only going to make things worse.”

Tooru doesn’t respond. Kuroo bites his lips, then briefly turns into a human to reach into his pocket and hand him a piece of paper. “Okay, fine. _Be that way._ But if you’re ever interested in reconsidering… just let me know okay? Don’t try coming through by yourself. You’ll get in serious trouble.”

It’s when Kuroo is knee deep in the light that Tooru finally realizes Kuroo is leaving.

“Wait!” he says, a little desperately. “How do I get back home from here?”

Kuroo only smiles slyly. “I’m sure you can figure it out.” With that, the light shoots up like bars, and for a brief second he sees his body fade into shadows, a two-pronged tail flicking upwards before disappearing into smoke, closing up the portal and leaving only smoke.

And Tooru finds himself all alone in the field, the groceries in his hand long forgotten.

The wind blows — it’ll be dark soon, but Tooru can’t bring himself to stand up. Not right away, at least.

He finds a slip of paper is a phone number, from where the portal was. It flies into his hands, as if the wind is magical itself.  _Call me,_ it says. The handwriting is surprisingly neat.

 _Aren’t you tired of running away? I can help._

_“No way,”_ he whispers to himself. “It’s just too good to be true. There’s no way.”

He laughs, then, and starts walking home. The sun is gone by the time he gets there. The very same night, he finally falls asleep peacefully.

The only thing he can remember from his dreams is a black cat.

 

* * *

 

At one point, he saves the number, but he can’t bring himself to do anything else about it.

Tooru has to admit — when the weather is terrible, and he’s exhausted, and his mother won’t stop nagging, Kuroo’s offer to help him control his magic is tempting. 

But he thinks back to the way his eyes glowed, the unnaturalness of the portal, and something about the entire thing feels so off that he can’t bring himself to do anything. He’s always suppressed his magic and identity, but now that there’s a theoretical way to actually, maybe, _properly learn how to use magic,_ he finds himself feeling impatient and unsettled for no reason.

Magic used to be something he ignored, something he tricked himself into believing wasn’t real. A pressing matter pushed under the rug so deeply Tooru rarely thought about it conciously. But now, how can he ignore everything when there are so many unanswered questions running around in his head?

Like, how did he sense Tooru’s magic? How did he get to their world legally, anyways? Had that portal always been there? Were there more around the world? Is that how magical creatures came through from the other world? Then what made Kuroo different from those criminals?

 He can’t think, can’t _focus,_ and Tooru mentally curses Kuroo for breaking the balance of his life. He had been determined to try to forget the entire ordeal, but he can’t help remembering every time he has to hide to release magic.

“Oikawa Tooru?”

He looks up from his desk, and with a jolt, realizes he’s in the middle of class. Everyone stares at him, a few students in the back even giggling.

Oops. He smiles sheepishly at his teacher, and stutters out some excuse. He can feel Iwaizumi almost breathing down his back with questions of his own, but once again Tooru uses the cover of class to escape his immediate wrath. Maybe, by the time they’re allowed to go out, Iwaizumi won’t be as intimidating.

Tooru finds out that he is very, very wrong.

As soon as they’re dismissed Iwaizumi grabs his shoulder and leads them out. 

“I-Iwa-chan, what’s wrong?” he says as nonchalantly as possible.

“Just get your stuff,” Iwaizumi grunts. “I’m tired of this. We need to talk.”

Tooru contemplates running away — then looks at Iwaizumi’s gaze and quickly packs his bag for they day. He waves Hanamaki and Matsukawa a quick goodbye, who only nod at Iwaizumi mysteriously, before he’s dragged out to the side of the school. 

It’s a nice day out, Tooru thinks absentmindedly. The days are becoming hotter now, but there are no cicadas to be heard. The sun is partially clouded by a few clouds, leaving half of the concrete scorching and the other half perfectly fine. 

“We need to talk,” Iwaizumi repeats after sitting down, back against brick walls, facing the school’s open field that’s full of fake grass.

“I don’t know why you’re so angry, Iwa-chan,” Tooru tries to say, sitting down next to Iwaizumi. 

“I’m not angry,” Iwaizumi says, brows furrowed. “I’m just — frustrated. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“People can change!”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean—” he leans in, holding a hand to Tooru’s forehead. “—are you sick or something? If you are, I’ll kill you, shittykawa.”

He brushes away Iwaizumi’s hand. “I’m not _sick,_ or anything. Just a little stressed, that’s all!” 

Iwaizumi merely cocks an eyebrow. “Is this the same kind of ‘stressed’ you were feeling two years ago, when you practiced volleyball to the point of almost dying from malnutrition? The same kind that fucked up your knee, you know, where you were just a _little_ bit stressed, so you stayed until 2 AM that one night—”

“Okay, I got it! I’m a lot stressed. Happy?” Tooru pouts and crosses his arms.

Iwaizumi sighs. They’re silent for a while. “You know you can tell me if anything is wrong, right?”

 The wind blows, and Tooru catches a fresh leaf that flies by. In that moment, just in that moment, he pretends that all those times he had held something like this in his hand, it had been something he had plucked himself, something he had done on _purpose._

 _Wouldn’t it be nice, if my magic just disappeared…_  

“I’m just… tired, Iwa-chan,” he finds himself saying.

Iwaizumi stays silent, as if waiting for an explanation, but Tooru doesn’t say anything else. He really _is_ tired, tired of everything, and he silently wonders how long he can keep this, this _game_ of constantly bottling things up. 

 _Not for much longer, that’s for sure,_ he thinks to himself, _especially if Iwaizumi keeps bugging me like this. I wish… I wish I could tell them. But…_  

His thoughts trail off, and _it’s too much,_ and in that moment a few spring flowers sprout from the palm of his hand, as if responding to his frustration. 

His heart jumps to his mouth as he immediately tries to crumble it up, hoping, _praying,_ that Iwaizumi wasn’t looking. _Damn it, damn it, damn it… I let myself get too worked up. If only I had been more careful…_

He suddenly remembers Iwaizumi’s expression all those years ago when they had been sharing secrets after a day of playing in the snow. He remembers the pain, the anger. 

Of course, Iwaizumi never really directly talked about his mother again after that, but sometimes Tooru would catch him going to the town cemetery with a bouquet, and other trinkets, in hand. He would catch his empty expression whenever someone talked extensively about their family.

And he really didn’t want to know how much more devastated he would be if he found out about Tooru’s own magic. If he found out that his best friend had the very same thing that had killed his mother.

A shift. Tooru freezes, unable to hide a few buds peeking out from through the cracks of his fingers. _Please don’t notice, please don’t notice…_

“Oh?” _Tooru winces, brances for impact—_ “You don’t see those around these days,” Iwaizumi says casually, gesturing to the flowers in his hand. Tooru cautiously examines the other ‘s face, looks for any trace of disgust or shock, but only finds open curiosity instead. He visibly relaxes — Iwaizumi must have been looking away when his magic had leaked. Thank _goodness._ “They usually only come out at the beginning of spring.” 

“Y-yeah! I know right? It’s _really_ strange! I just found them! Right here, next to me. On the ground. They were just, growing from the concrete. Hahaha!” 

If Tooru is being weird (which he probably is), Iwaizumi doesn’t comment on it.

They stay silent again for a few minutes, then Iwaizumi gets up and offers a hand to Tooru. 

He hesitates, for a second. When he takes it, the other’s palm is warm, and his finger twitches in urge to grow something else.

Later that night, when they’ve walked home together and Tooru is attempting to do some homework, he chokes on his own breath as thorns make their way out of his throat and almost strangle him. He shoves bloodied rose petals into the trash and grabs his phone.

(He’s had enough of this, and earlier was too close of a call. He needs to do _something._ Kuroo’s word echo through his mind, over and over.

_It’s not only dangerous to yourself, but also dangerous to others, when you try to suppress magic for that long. That’s why I’m here. I can bring you safely over. I can teach you how to control it_

It sounds too good to be true, but he has to try).

 

* * *

 

**New Message:**

 

**[12:33 AM]**

 

 **Me:** hey, it’s oikawa tooru

  **Me:** You said you could help me control my magic…?

 

* * *

 

**[4:50 AM]**

               

 **Unknown:** glad you’ve come to your senses, at least a little bit.

 **Unknown:** come by the portal this weekend.

 **Unknown:** you can’t miss it ;)

 

* * *

 

When the next weekend comes by, Tooru realizes there wasn’t a time specified. He tries texting Kuroo again, he doesn’t get any responses, so sometime after lunch, he gives an apology to Iwaizumi for turning down his offer to study and heads out with unsure steps. It’s cloudy, unlike last time, the overhanging grey sheets making him more anxious.

He isn’t sure how he knows where to go, but while walking down the beaten path at the park he ends up straying at one point, and soon the sound of children’s voices screaming and screeching quickly fades. After a few minutes he finds himself in that same clearing from about a week ago, the same, strange atmosphere sending shivers up his spine.

“Hey!” Says a familiar voice from behind, and Tooru, embarrassingly enough, shrieks and whips his head around so fast that a few lilies burst from his neck, stabbing into his ears and hair.

Kuroo bursts into laughter.

“K-Kuroo!” he breathes out. The other is wearing a plain, dark T-shirt and jeans like last time, and Tooru is somewhat alarmed at how _normal_ he looks. “Don’t _scare_ me like that.”

“Oh my god,” Kuroo huffs, mirth still in his voice, and he has to stop to let out a few giggles before continuing. He walks up so he can sling a shoulder around Tooru. “I’ll never get over that. _Geez,_ didn’t know you were such a scaredy cat.”

Tooru pouts at that. “I am _not.”_

“Don’t lie to me, I can sense your fear.” A strange statement, but at this point, Tooru doesn’t doubt him. “You’re nervous — don’t be! The Other Side isn’t all bad.”

This time, it’s his time to laugh. Tooru thinks Kuroo is joking until he looks into his eyes.

“The other side is full of monsters,” he says, suddenly wanting to explain himself.

“And?” Kuroo raises an eyebrow.

 “And?!” Tooru repeats, almost shrill. “And monsters are just that — _monsters._ I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“ _Ouch_ ,” Kuroo says even if his expression shows no sign of hurt. “I know we monsters have a bad rep here but, I thought you might be a little more open minded at least. Come on, _I’m_ not that bad, right?”

Tooru wears a dead-pan expression. “You’re literally the worst person I’ve met.”

“Oh, shut up. You should be _thanking_ me for this opportunity.”

"Whatever,” Tooru retorts, but he doesn’t say anything else.

It’s true — if someone had told him a few weeks ago that he could have the chance to have someone teach him magic, without judging him for it, he would have laughed. In fact, he _had_ laughed. And then he had been too afraid of the offer to do anything for a while. 

But after sending the first text to Kuroo, it was as if something in him had changed. The _‘I don’t trust you’_ s and _I don’t believe this is true_ ’s slowly changed as they started to communicate more and more. Tooru complained about homework and his friends bother him almost daily. Kuroo responded by talking about _his_ friends, who he apparently owned a shop with. It was an apothecary of sorts, a strange concept to Tooru in itself, but that was the only information he had been able to glean from him.

 _You can see for yourself when you visit,_ Kuroo had said when Tooru asked for more details.

 _Right. The visit_. _The whole reason why you started to talk to him in the first place._ He isn’t sure how to feel about it.

Going to the one place where nobody he knew could help him seemed like a bad idea, especially when he had been taught to hate the place all throughout his life while growing up.

Despite the countless stories he’s heard about the other side, Tooru has never heard of any account of what the place is actually _like_. It’s a truly mysterious place for humans, after all, and anything is possible. For most, magic is just another part of a fairy tale, something to fear, something that used to be a part of the norm when humans and creatures had lived together.

There are even some accounts of humans discovering a bit of magic in themselves, passed down from descendants from hundreds of years ago.

But those humans can barely do anything, in terms of actual magical ability. Perhaps lifting objects no heavier than a pen, or having slightly enhanced vision, was the extent of their abilities. In shorter terms, nothing when compared to what Tooru has.

 So, even if it feels as if common sense is telling him to turn away and pretend that he never met Kuroo, a part of him knows he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he really ran away.  
  
He’s been running his entire life. And he’s _tired._ Before, he had run because there was nothing else to do, nothing else he _could_ do.

But now that Kuroo has offered him an alternative, a chance to _rest,_ he can’t help but become feverish at the thought of finally having some control over his life.

As much as he hates it, hates _himself, his magic,_ as much as he fears it, an incessant voice whispers _go, go, go._ Maybe, just _maybe,_ if he figures out how to control his magic, he can to university without being detected.

An unrealistic dream, but maybe he can even live his entire _life_ undetected once he learns how to control his magic.

It sounds almost too good to be true.

“Are you ready?” Kuroo asks, breaking Tooru out of his thoughts.

Tooru simply nods.

Kuroo, much like last time in his cat form, bends down and touches the ground lightly. Tooru watches more closely now, notices how the light first spreads from his fingertips, before shimmering and darkening into the sight of the portal. It sparkles, but he gets an ominous feeling from it.

Tooru peers in. It seems like an endless void of nothingness, a giant hole full of unknowns and certain trouble. 

“It’s a bit strange, but you just need to melt into it. It doesn’t take long at all to be transported to the Other Side then.”

He looks at Kuroo with an incredulous expression. “Yeah, just melt into it, simple enough,” he says sarcastically. Tooru looks at the portal apprehensively again. “Are you… are you sure I won’t die from this?”

“Come on, trust me!”  
  
“Kuroo, you’re the _least_ trustworthy person I know.”

The other pouts at that. “But you’ll still go through, yeah?”

“Only because I have to. Don’t flatter yourself.” 

Kuroo laughs at that. “Okay, okay. I surrender. Hurry and jump through, I can’t keep this thing open _forever.”_

Tooru mumbles an affirmative and takes a deep breath — _I’m really doing this. I’m actually going to the other side._ Despite the reasoning he had done before coming here, he feels _scared_ as he stands in front of the portal. Hesitantly, he touches it with his fingers. 

It’s cold to touch. He pushes his hand in deeper, and slowly his body begins to sink into the ground, and the strange sensation of tingling travels through him. Succulents begin to sprout all over him, wrapping around his arms and any available surface of skin, as if trying to protect him.

The last thing he sees is Kuroo’s mouth moving, saying something he can’t quite catch, before he’s quickly swallowed by darkness, and the sensation of falling. 

 


	2. peony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru finally reaches the other side and meets new people. He doesn't know how to feel about it. Kuroo is also annoying as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey woah!!!! its been a while since i updated this, but i'm back! yay! Thank you everyone for waiting patiently, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I wanted to finish the fic in 3 parts but uh it's going to be longer than that. rip. so the chapter count is up in the air... sorry about that;;;

The first thing he hears is the sound of voices. More specifically, he can discern laughter and footsteps and even hooves plodding down what sounds like a paved road, maybe stone, although it doesn’t sound very close. He’s sprawled eagle-spread over the ground, grass tickling his skin through his clothes.

His eyes are closed, and he’s met with the sight of lush, green topiaries as he squints against the sun. Groaning as he gets up, his limbs a bit stiff, Tooru is in the middle of stretching his arms, still sitting on the ground, when he hears a slight shimmer, not unlike wind chimes carrying in the wind, and right beside him materializes Kuroo, standing up.   

“Well, well, well,” Kuroo sighs, only slightly snickering at the sight of Tooru on the floor. Tooru only glares and begrudgingly takes the hand the other offers him. “I guess we’re finally here. I know it’s kinda tough for you, but—” he pats Tooru’s shoulder and leads him down a small path, “—I’m really glad you decided to do this.”

They don’t go very far. Tooru, upon looking around more closely, realizes they’re in a very small clearing, surrounded on tall trees on three sides, branches lifting high. There’s a barricade of leaves and branches on the fourth side with no trees, but Kuroo, after pushing Tooru in that direction, pushes aside the wall of greenery with a dramatic flourish and says, “Welcome to the Other Side.”

As much as he doesn’t want to be, Tooru can’t help but be, well, in _awe._

They’re all the way at the end of a busy street — which was, in fact, made of stone — and the grey and muted red squares on the ground seem clean, much cleaner than the streets of the city. Little wildflowers grow in the crevices where the narrow street gives way to parallel sidewalks, and alongside those are little, colorful buildings with wooden signposts and bright lights.

But the thing that makes Tooru’s eyes widen and gasp is the sight of the _people,_ or rather, _creatures_ — he spots people with wings flying above, figures with long ears, even some monsters walking on two, four, up to six legs down the street. The amount of chatter is loud, and everyone seems to be talking, and with a start Tooru realizes the people are are more… humanoid than he thought they would be. There are animal ears and tails attached to normal looking heads and backs everywhere, although the presence of creatures that are clearly more similar to animals isn’t completely missing.

He shudders, but whether it’s in fear or in excitement, he doesn't know.

Kuroo beings walking forward, and with a start, Tooru grabs onto his arm desperately. “Wait! Where- Where are you _going?”_

If Kuroo is about to make a scathing remark he keeps it in, probably because of the panic that shows on his face and suddenly sets into Tooru’s bones. “Just a place I know,” he starts, vaguely enough. “I work there during the day with my friends. I promise, they’re really nice. And they should be able to help me come up with a plan on how to come up with a training regimen or something for you.”

Tooru looks at the massive crowd and decides the earlier shiver was in fear. This is _enemy_ territory. And as much as magic is supposed to be a “part of him,” or whatever, he’s grown up in a world where creatures like this — creatures like _him —_ are viewed so negatively that he can’t help but internally look at everything with skewed lenses.

 _How vile,_ he thinks, desperately pushing down any other thoughts.

Kuroo, thankfully, somehow manages stay in contact with Tooru as they enter the crowd, and _truly,_ there are a lot of people. Despite being constantly pushed around (and despite his heart rate jumping at every time he touches someone else, silently wondering in panic if anybody can sense that he’s at least partly human) Kuroo’s constant pushes and pulls, somehow, gets him through it without any random branches or flowers stabbing a possibly aggressive creature in the eye.

But it’s stressful, and Tooru has never felt this much anxiety before, not even before a big game or a test, and the strain of trying to keep everything in and also move forward so he doesn’t lose the other is positively draining. He takes notes of the buildings around, and realizes they’re all little shops, similar to the downtown of certain districts in Japan, but filled with a hundred times more people (—people? Is that word even applicable?). There are some brands he even recognizes, little outlets with clothes and other accessories displayed through windows, cafes and small restaurants. There are strange things as well, things that if he saw back in his world could be described as _occult,_ with different contraptions and other miscellaneous items Tooru has no idea what they could be perched on stands inside the little stores.

By the time Kuroo finally stops and pulls Tooru out of the thick of the crowd, to the slightly less dense sidewalk, he finds himself struggling to breathe properly with a tight chest. They’re in front of a store that seems smaller than the rest, the outside a simple wooden entrance that has a few vines growing from the side. There are circular windows that show the inside, although currently it’s covered by thin curtains, and an overhead sign reads _NekoFukuro Apothecary and Charms (and Potions)._ The last part is added on a separate piece of wood that seems to have been added as an afterthought.

Kuroo gives Tooru a kind smile. “Breathe!” he encourages, “and try not to offend anyone too much.”

With that, he opens the door, which signals a little bell overhead, which jingles almost hauntingly.

Tooru, swallowing the taste of ferns struggling to push past his throat, heads in right after Kuroo. The door closes behind him with a startling, definitive _boom,_ and before Tooru can even process anything a loud voice suddenly exclaims, “Hey, Welcome to— oh, It’s just you. Hey, new guy!”

He assumes that “new guy” is supposed to be him, but as soon as he takes one more step in, the world around him tilts dangerously (and Tooru belatedly realizes he really didn’t take Kuroo’s advice and his chest still feels tight and uncomfortable and he _can’t breathe)_ before the world darkens around him for the second time that day.

 

* * *

 

He does _not_ wake up in a peaceful clearing, where he can feel the grass underneath him with sunlight shining on his face again, but when his senses slowly start to reawaken he can feel the uncomfortable scratchiness he always feels when there’s trapped foliage underneath his clothes.

Blearily, he realizes, sometime in his sleep he had unconsciously grown grass and weeds all over the surface of the top of his body, as if he were some sort of lawn, the exception areas being his neck and face. The stuff tickles his skin as he shifts, little blades bended and peeking out from the openings of his clothes.

He frowns, because waking up covered neck down is an old habit he got rid of ages ago. With a tentative flick of his finger, eyes still closed, Tooru takes a deep breath and manages to bring his body back to normal.

Of course, someone notices, and Tooru suddenly remembers where he is.

Right. The other side, the store. He bolts awake and tries not to wince at the pain pounding behind his eyes. In panic, he takes in his surroundings and finds himself somewhat… calmed, by how quaint it looks.

The store is small, with wooden walls cut in the same way the exterior had been, overhead lanterns filling the space with yellow light. Immediately to the right of the entrance is a long counter that extends to about half the length to the wall, drawers and shelves stacked right behind and a old, rusted cash register sitting in a bed of messy papers and other things Tooru can’t quite place.

The other wall, opposite of the entrance has the same half-length counter as well, but instead of drawers behind there are little square holes dug into the wall, each pocket-like space showing various crystals and what Tooru assumes are charms. He finds himself sitting on a couch, surrounded by chairs made out of the same, faded salmon pink fabric, and a little table with a dark, birch base, books covering most of the surface. The corners are stuffed with various piles of more paper and scrolls, maybe?, and he even spots a cauldron with various glass vials and containers littering the floor. The wall furthest from the entrance doesn’t have a counter space, only a fireplace.

The space seems cramped with all this material and yet there are also plants everywhere, overhanging pots and little succulents lined up against the windows, spilling green and splashes of petals everywhere, almost choking the ambient air with its vibrant, yet soothing, presence.

And then, of course, there are people. He spots Kuroo lounging on the chair next to him, feet propped against the arm rests. Startled, he realizes Kuroo’s eyes are glowing yellow now, pupils dilated, a two-pronged tail coming up from somewhere behind him, and he smirks apologetically at him. His clothes are different too, but not by much, and this time he dons a black tank top and loose pants that seem more — traditional, maybe? He can’t tell. They’re grey and made out of a thick fabric.

Then there’s someone behind the counter with all the shelves, with wild hair more outrageous than Kuroo’s. Its white and grey, but with the way they’re tipped up like some sort of owl’s, the person himself wearing a bright expression, it doesn’t make him look old or aged in any way. This person too, wears a tank top, with similar pants to Kuroo, but there are wings folded neatly behind him, and _oh,_ Tooru gulps at the sight of feathers strewn everywhere, the same color as his hair. He’s moving, and he already knows this stranger is the kind of person who’s _always moving,_ adjusting things and pulling at handles and closing them shut with what seems like no rhyme or reason.

Tooru almost misses him, tucked away next to the cauldron, but there’s someone curled up and holding something close to his face as well, a long, stereotypical ‘witch’ hat on top of a head with an old dye job, black roots showing through faded yellow. His eyes are strange as well, stranger than Kuroo’s (although not as dilated) and the most he can see of his clothes are baggy sleeves.

And near the fireplace, leading against the wall silently, is someone else entirely. He stands with grace, examining his own nimble fingers with sharp-cut eyes and a mess of curly hair on top. His nose is thin, like the rest of his lithe body, and Tooru would not be able to differentiate him from a normal human if it it weren’t for the strange cuts along his neck and the paleness of his skin, which seems almost blue-ish.

“You’re finally awake!” Kuroo exclaims a beat later. Tooru tries to talk, but realizes his throat is dry and simply lets out a croak. When the other begins to giggle, he pouts and crosses his arms. “I’m sorry, I— I should have warned you earlier. Your body isn’t used to this place, and you’ve been stubbornly keeping your magic in for so long, you managed to pass out as soon as we stopped walking.”

Tooru just nods weakly, as the person with wings behind the counter whips his head around, and _wow_ he really is like an owl. “Hey! Glad that you’re not dead, buddy! Sorry that Kuroo’s a bit of a dick, you must’ve been through a lot to get here, huh?” at the comment, Kuroo looks offended, but doesn't actually say anything. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou, nice to meet you! Let’s get along, yeah? The person sitting at the corner is Kenma— or well, eh, Kozume Kenma. And that’s Akaashi over there — uh, welcome to our store! We sell all kinds of things, like potions and charms and spells. You know, what every apothecary has.”

“Right,” Tooru says faintly. “What every apothecary has.”

Akaashi and Kenma don’t say anything else, although they give him a wave. Seems like Kuroo and Bokuto, mostly Bokuto, are the only ones who want to talk. “We, uh,” Bokuto says after an awkward pause, “We know why you’re here, and we’ll get to that soon, alright? We’ll have an official meeting of sorts to help you out after we close. Until then, don’t feel shy to ask any questions you have!”

“Thank you,” Tooru mumbles out, voice still raspy, and that’s that. Bokuto goes back to humming and going through the shelves, Kuroo grabs a book from the table, and Akaashi moves to do something or the other. Kenma gets up as well, and starts grabbing little vials and herbs from all around. The atmosphere is cozy, everybody somehow both in their own world and in each other’s, and Tooru looks down at his hands and realizes he feels out of place.

He feels strangely at peace and unsettled at the same time. His limbs still feel heavy, although his headache has receded into something more manageable, and with a bit of shuffling Tooru manages to move around so that he can sit more comfortably. The fireplace nearby crackles with energy, although Tooru doesn’t see any wood or smoke of the sort, he doesn’t even see a chimney. With wide eyes, Tooru can’t help but keep sneaking a peak at everyone — at Kuroo’s tail, which flicks back and forth languidly, Bokuto’s wings that shimmer and shift with powerful ripples, kenma’s nimble fingers and the floating objects around him (there are books and plants and other things he’s never seen before) and finally, Akaashi’s pale skin and dark eyes that are some shade of blue or black he can’t quite place.

If Iwaizumi were here (and a part of him wishes he were, because Iwaizumi is the person who grounds him, and in this strange world Tooru feels like he’s going to float away) he would probably smack him for staring so blatantly at everyone, the same way he watches other people and players if he’s trying to figure them out. But he _isn’t_ here, and there is no smack to bring him to his senses, and Tooru bends his knees and sighs into his folded arms, feeling conflicted.

He startles when Kenma starts pouring something into a cup in front of him — it’s tea, or at least he hopes it is, steady hands holding a rather cute, simple teapot into a traditional-style cup.

“Your voice seemed dry, earlier,” Kenma explains. His voice is soft, and he keeps avoiding eye contact, but it also feels steady, and his body shows no sign of fear or disdain. “It’s just oolong tea.”

“Thank you,” Tooru breathes out, gratefully accepting the cup handed to him. The scalding water is refreshing, washing down the scratchiness of his throat, the fragrance of good tea clearing his head a bit. “Feeling much better now!”

“No problem,” is all Kenma says, before taking a seat on the same couch as Kuroo. Kuroo wordlessly moves his feet to make space, still engrossed in the book. The title is in a language that Tooru doesn’t recognize, but it doesn’t seem like a light read judging by the thickness of the spine.

Akaashi moves as well, taking the last available couch space, _(which is right next to Tooru)_ giving him a nod in greeting. When the other shifts, a small glitter catches his eye — it’s _scales,_ in spots somewhat covered by his clothes, shining in purples and blues.

He tries to look around, stay still, but his eyes are continuously drawn to the other. It's just so... _(beautiful)_ strange. "Are those scales?" Tooru asks with a whisper, unable to control his impulses and also not wanting to disrupt the quiet. Akaashi looks up, and with slight hesitation, nods.

"Huh," Tooru responds eloquently. Akaashi goes back to what he was doing, and Tooru finds himself wishing otherwise. 

But he also feels the piercing gaze of the other when he thinks Tooru isn't looking. A flower begins to bud from his nervousness, but he quickly swallows it up. 

What... is he exactly supposed to do now? 

So Tooru, lacking any self control at the moment, and a little bored in all honesty, blurts out the question that has been on his mind since he woke up. “What— what _are_ you guys?”

Surprisingly, it's Akaashi who laughs first. Bokuto follows, as if the question Tooru asked wasn't rude at all. “Curious, huh? Well? What do _you_ think we are?”

The words are playful but Tooru suddenly gets the feeling that this, this is a test of sorts, that he’s being judged. Bokuto's bright eyes seem to see right through him, and Tooru gulps, wishing he never opened his mouth at all. “To be honest?" he starts out, after collecting his thoughts. "No idea. I don’t know anything about the Other World, never really wanted to,” he answers as genuinely as he can.

“Hm? Then why are you here?”

Tooru frowns into his hands. They’re nimble and thin, a bit pale, and really with a simple thought he can grow whatever he wants to. “Because as much as I hate it, I guess I have,” he pauses here, not quite used to saying it out loud, “magic. And it’s getting out of control.”

“And..?” Bokuto doesn’t elaborate, leaves the question open-ended for Tooru to fill in.

“And I’m here because Kuroo offered to teach me how to control… _this.”_ He can’t help the bit of disgust and fear that crawls into his voice on that last word. This is something he doesn’t want, something he never wanted, but the threat of risking not only himself but the people around him is greater than that original reluctance.  

Bokuto makes a sound of acknowledgment, and his expression doesn’t show whether Tooru ‘passed’ or not, or if he was even being tested. But then Bokuto shrugs and asks the others, “did we have any other planned customers today?”

Kuroo, simply shrugs, and _when did he put his book down?_ Akaashi moves his hands into different motions and Tooru belatedly realizes he’s talking to Bokuto — more specifically, _signing._ His motions are fluid and too quick for Tooru to try and figure out what the other is conveying, but Bokuto nods along as if understanding perfectly. Which, to be honest, he most likely does.

“Ah, forgot about Konoha. What did he order again?”  
  
“Three ounces of wildberries and a temporary memory recall potion,” Kuroo drones out.

“They’re already wrapped in his drawer,” Kenma says, and those words seem to jumpstart Bokuto to move around in a flurry again, and after what seems like a lot of unnecessary movement the other slams a drawer shut with one final flourish.

He looks over to Tooru and smiles. “Well, we’re done with work for today. So let’s get this going, yeah? You wanted to know what we are?”

And that’s when Tooru looks around again — really thinks about where he is, what he’s gotten himself into. He realizes he’s on edge because he feels so _comfortable._ Because these creatures, well, seem like _people,_ and they’re nothing like the monsters and alien-like he thought the Other World beings might be like. They’re like humans, with personalities and distinct speech patterns and other characteristics that makes him feel like he’s meeting a few strangers at his school, or someplace other _normal,_ not while in some fantastical land.

And even if they’re a bit weird and eccentric, Tooru looks at Kuroo, the stranger who was either kind enough to extend a helping hand or sneaky enough to convince Tooru to come with him, looks at Kenma with his short and clipped vocabulary, at his small stature yet piercing eyes. There’s also Bokuto, the one who talks the most, the one Tooru can’t tell if he’s joking or serious, with toned arms and wings that look ethereal, almost something that might come from a dream. Finally, there’s Akaashi, who has barely really acknowledged Tooru in his short time here, but the way he moves, the way he holds himself is intriguing and mysterious.

And these four, somehow, are supposed friends and shop owners that have decided to work together to try and help Tooru, a stranger.

He thinks back to the day before, where everything had seemed so normal, when he had woken up in his simple room rather than this messy place, where a buzzing behind his eyes won’t go away, with so many unknown things, where he feels like an intruder looking into an entirely new country and culture.

But he doesn’t know how to really explain this, the strangeness and uncertainty and dream-like state of everything. Perhaps there isn’t even a word.

Either way, the most Tooru can bring himself to say in the end, is simply, “yes. I want to learn.”

And maybe, that’s the answer he’s silently been trying to answer this entire time.

 

* * *

 

They don’t tell him things, right away. In fact, they only give him five pieces of information before sending him home with an invite to come around next weekend.

  1. Kuroo is a half nekomata, half witch — something he’s admittedly been told before, but at that time the information had flown over his head, not quite sticking. But now it has, and he can’t unsee the other with cat ears and bright eyes
  2. Kenma is a witch with incredible magic, apparently, although he has yet to see anything besides a few floating objects
  3. Bokuto is an owl tengu and can actually fly. Which isn’t much of a surprise considering how big his wings are.
  4. Akaashi is a siren
  5. Akaashi does not talk



  
He supposes the last one makes sense, seeing fact number four. But out of all three, Akaashi is the one he has the littlest idea of what kind of person he is, what kind of person he might be. Akaashi is also the one he has the most facts on, ironically enough.

It’s dark, back at home, the light in Iwaizumi’s room already out. His limbs are tired, more tired than he ever remembers them being, and honestly he doesn’t even clearly recall his walk home with Kuroo, who whistled quietly after leading him through another portal jump.

He barely remembers taking a drink of what Kenma silently offered to him before leaving, a small vial that smelled sweet that was supposed to help his magic not react so strongly to his emotions. It wasn’t something permanent, and it wasn’t something that was recommended to be consumed often, but it would have to do until Tooru came by more often and picked up more skills that would help him control things himself. 

_“Isn’t there a —potion or something? Some magic that can, I don’t know, make this go… away?” Tooru is desperate now, because he didn’t come here just to have to come back again, especially since it’s looking like they want him back for an indefinite amount of time._

_Kuroo shakes his head at that, expression sad. “Nothing permanent, buddy. I”m telling you right now, there’s no other way then just letting us help you. And if you want our help, you’re going to have to drop by again. I mean, we aren’t so bad, right?”_  

 _Tooru looks at Kuroo, who basically dragged him here, Bokuto, who seems loud and friendly, Kenma, who is quiet but has keen eyes, and Akaashi, who Tooru has no idea what he’s thinking, and realizes he really doesn’t know anything about these people, doesn’t have anything to judge whether they were “good” or “bad” company._  

Thinking about it now, though, they weren’t _terrible,_ or anything. Just… confusing. And friendly. And completely against everything Tooru had expected. He really isn’t sure what to do.

The glaring red numbers on his digital clock remind him he can think about this later, and Tooru gladly slips into bed, letting his muscles relax.

He dreams that night, but it’s the first time he wakes up without feeling like he’s going to choke himself, a singular gardenia wrapped around his ring finger tightly.

 

* * *

 

It’s a while until Tooru decides to go back.

He has school and other friends after all. Hanamaki and Matsukawa threaten to tickle him to death for not sharing where he went that weekend, but Tooru manages to keep his mouth shut. Iwaizumi only stares, he’s always staring, asking silent questions and so on. They’ve known each other long enough to not need to say these things — _are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you taking care of yourself? How have you been?_ — but the pressing attitude is there anyways.

So then, Tooru does what he does best.

He hides.

Behind smiles and excuses about school and studying and _college_ (because they’re all stressed about that), it’s almost believable that his life is normal. But it’s at night, when he’s alone, with the potion from Kenma running low and succulents sprouting from the dry patches of skin, when Tooru tiredly realizes the reason why he’s still considering going back to the Other Side is because he’s _tired_ of living like this, _tired_ of pretending not to look when magic is involved.

After two weeks, Tooru sends Kuroo another text with shaky hands, after deleting his original message multiple times.

 **Me:** Hey, can I drop by this weekend?

Its casual, as if Tooru just “drops by” all the time. Kuroo responds only a few seconds later.

 **Unknown:** of course! Same place, same time.

After a second of hesitation, Tooru types in a few more words.

**_Contact name set to: Tettsun_ **

 

* * *

 

“What is that, anyways?” 

Meeting with Kuroo and jumping through the portal was far easier to do than expected. Although still a bit dizzy, Tooru doesn’t feel faint as he walks alongside the other, trying not to get lost in the unfamiliar crowd.

“This? Ohoho. This is my travel license. A permit, if you will. With this bad boy I can travel freely between the worlds without setting off the alarm.”

Tooru tries to grab it to get a closer look — surprisingly, Kuroo swerves out of the way with over-exaggerated desperation. “Hey, don’t touch that! I worked hard for that license. I mean, everybody can get one — even you, if you get registered as a citizen here, but that’s a whole different story — but it’s not an easy task.”

“What happens if you go through without a permit?”

Kuroo pauses at that. “Well, that’s illegal, my friend. And it’s a very grave offense indeed. I recommend you try not to, no matter what.”

“Wait, they’ll _kill_ you?! _”_ Tooru says, suddenly aghast.

“What? _No!_ You’ll be put to jail, or maybe you’ll just do community service at a school. The latter is for people who only discovered their powers recently. Not only do they do service, but they also take classes so they can learn control.”

“Sounds like something I need…”

“Oh, come on,” Kuroo grins. “Who needs a class when you already have four amazing teachers? Come on in, we already have lesson plans for you.”

It’s then when he realizes they’ve arrived at their shop, and the other three co-owners of the shop are all already gathered at the table once they enter. The atmosphere is as calm and relaxing as the first time he was here, and nothing much has changed in terms of decor (although, strangely enough, there’s a giant plush doll of a cat now) .

True to Kuroo’s word, they have a “training regimen schedule” written up for him, (or as Bokuto heartily said, _Operation Get Tooru’s Magic Under Control in 4 Easy Steps!!!)_  although it’s less of a schedule and more of a list of activities he can do whenever he drops by.

“You have plant growth magic, right?” Kenma says after giving him the list on an old scroll of parchment paper. “I’ve been developing a potion that might help you keep it under control for now… I’m not done yet, but come by often to check in on progress… or just ask Kuroo if you want.”

“A potion? Specially for me?” Tooru squeals, smiling at the thought of having _something_ to keep his magic down. He imagines Kenma in a stereotypical witch costume brewing together something sinister in a cauldron and his excitement dies down a little (because honestly, what goes _in_ a potion anyways?), but the risk of drinking something strange seems like nothing compared to the promise of a future with less magic.  “Thanks, Ken-chan!”

Kenma wrinkles his nose at the nickname, eyes sharp as if he had been reading his mind or at least aware of Tooru’s inner thoughts as he was told the news. It sends goosebumps down his arm but he doesn’t say anything otherwise. 

He takes the time to look over the training list, then…

… and squints at the contents.

“Uh, are you guys sure this is the… right list?”

Bokuto raises an eyebrow at that. “Of course it’s the right list! Why, what’s wrong about it?”

“Well I mean… it just, seems like a chores list.”

He takes another closer look and yep, this is _definitely_  just a list of chores. Going to the shop, gathering materials, finishing someone’s request to take care of a fairy infestation in a bathroom… it sounds exactly like the tedious work Tooru is familiar with (like studying, training for volleyball), but more… magical.

“I prefer to call it a training schedule but— I guess, you _could_ look at it that way…?” Bokuto trails off at the end and Tooru realizes what the other is hinting at.

“So, I’m the errand boy.”

From the corner, he hears Akaashi try to stifle a laugh.

Bokuto’s eyes brighten. “Think of it this way — what you lack, is _experience._ And what better way to get experience _and_ do a little work? It’ll be like your payment, to us!”

“Payment for…?”

“Payment for us taking you in without questions, despite the fact that you being an unregistered magic-user is a crime,” Kenma interrupts.

Tooru deflates a bit at that.

“What Kenma is _trying_ to say,” Kuroo says, patting Tooru’s back reassuringly, “is that it’s not that bad of a deal! One of us will always be accompanying you, so you won’t be in any danger. Just try to drop in often, and we’ll go through the list one by one! By the end of it you should definitely be a master at magic. Or at least, close to one.”

“And after that…?" 

“Well, after that, things get a little tricky. As much as we all want to help, you can’t hide in the human world with magic forever.” For some reason, Kuroo’s tone changes to be somewhat accusatory (and Tooru ignores the jab), “But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there!”

 _I’m really doing this, huh,_ Tooru thinks to himself. _It almost feels like a dream… except everything’s also a bit too real._ “Fine, then. I guess we start from the top of the list…?”  
  
“Let’s see, let’s see, looks like it’s collecting some fireblossom that’s up first. Ooh, we’ll need to take a train to do that. Let’s see…”

“I’m busy,” Kenma immediately calls out. 

“I have to run the shop, yanno!” Bokuto says apologetically. “It’s my shift today.”

Akaashi simply shakes his head.

(Tooru is disappointed for some reason). 

“Well I guess I’m stuck with you for a little longer,” Kuroo says, no real hurt in his voice. “Come on, young grasshopper, we have much to learn.”

“Tettsun, please don’t call me that.”

“As much as I like that name, it's rude to talk to your sensei like that. Call me by the title of _The great-_ ”

 _“Tettsun.”_  

 

* * *

 

It feels surreal, walking out the door and through the streets. It’s almost as if he _belongs_ here. 

(But he doesn’t, even if he wanted to be. There’s a culture beyond his understanding, a life he can’t quite grasp yet, and pretending he’s like everyone else feels strange, _wrong,_ almost.) 

Nobody really bats them a second glance as they make their way through. If Tooru ignored all the details and little things, it would almost be exactly the same as walking through the streets in Sendai, heading to the train station. The mixture of familiar and unfamiliar things both comforts and disturbs him.

Kuroo, as if sensing this, says “Our world isn’t too different from yours.”

Tooru looks at the ground. “But there’s still a difference.” _This still doesn’t feel right._  

“True, true. But I wonder — why are you so afraid?” For a second, Kuroo flickers, revealing a shadowy outline with bright, cat-like eyes, before returning to normal. Something like that would usually freak Tooru out but… he hadn’t seemed threatening. Just curious, in a strange way.

So Tooru snorts. “Afraid of what?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?” Tooru just gives a blank look, hoping Kuroo gets the hint of _I don’t really want to talk about this._ Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to get it. “Afraid of _this.”_  

 _“‘This’_ being…?”

“‘This’ being everything going on right now. Not just magic, but everything related to magic. I mean, sure, we have some criminals popping up in your world now and then, but… you have human bad guys too. Criminals. Mass murderers. But that isn’t everyone, is it? In that same way, we’re not _all_ bloodthirsty monsters. You should know that by now, I know you’re not that close-minded. So, let me ask again — Why are you so afraid?”

A breeze runs through Tooru’s hair as they stop in front of what appears to be a normal train station. There are only a few creatures around, the bustle of the city streets long gone.

“It’s not that I think you’re all killers…” Tooru starts slowly. “It’s just. I’m more afraid of…” _myself. The monster in me._ “...getting hurt.”

Kuroo doesn’t look happy with the answer. Tooru tries to think of a more believable answer

“My best friend’s mom was killed by a monster. A chimera of some sort, to be exact. He never had a positive outlook on the Other Side, and that… didn’t help.” _He was so angry. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was like_ them _too._ “I guess that kinda affected me too.”

Kuroo stares at him for along second, eyes glittering in the sun. “Well… Hm. Alright. Answer accepted.”

Tooru blinks, surprised. Then he tries to brush it off. “Hey, what is this, a test? I would have prepared my answer in advance if I had known I would be questioned and judged.”

Kuroo just rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop complaining and hurry up. Or else we’re going to miss the train,” Kuroo says while rolling his eyes, dragging Tooru along.

Tooru, surprisingly lets him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always you can yell at me on my tumblr [@allu-ria](http://allu-ria.tumblr.com/)


	3. fire blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru is learning, and things are looking up!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back with another update?? SURPRISE ITS ME I KNOW I HAVE USUALLY HAVE A TERRIBLE UPDATING SCHEDULE BUT THIS TIME IT ONLY TOOK TWO WEEKS TO RELEASE THIS CHAPTER! I'm determined to tie up loose ends and start up all of my half-started fics and actually finish them. So please be patient with me, and I will do my best! I can't promise like, 10k chapters anymore even if that's kinda what i wanted this to be, but I think something is better than nothing, right? So here we are. I hope you guys enjoy.

 

“So,” Tooru starts.

“So…?” Kuroo repeats, eyebrows raised.

The swaying of the train make Tooru bump shoulders with Kuroo. Flashing lights as they rush past fields of grass run across their faces. For the first ten minutes of the train ride, Tooru had strained to look outside and see the rest of the landscape. He wasn’t sure what to expect — purple trees? Weird animals? But disappointingly enough, there wasn’t much difference in scenery than there was back at home. With only a few others on the train (it was much less crowded than the bustling trains in Tokyo), the duo settled against cold, plastic seats quickly.

“Tell me about everyone.”

Kuroo looks over, eyebrows raised in question. The swaying of the train sends shadows across his face, making his eyes almost glow. “Mmm? What about them? I already told you what everyone is—”

“No, no. Like. I want to know more about them, besides all that technical stuff. If i’m going to work with them next time, I want to have an idea of what kind of person they are. And besides, how else do you want to pass the time?”

_I usually try to figure things like this out myself, but I can’t quite put my finger on one of them._

He smiles at that. “Sure, sure. Who do you want to hear about first?”

Tooru pauses and thinks — thinks about how boisterous Bokuto is. Wonders how someone like him met and stayed with the others, wonders if he’s always been so bright and vibrant. His personality and good mood are almost infectious, and Tooru can tell he has a good heart. There’s also Kenma, how he tries to stay hidden and yet every time Tooru looks at him there seems to be something special about the way he moves. He’s an introvert for sure, but the occasional smiles and jabs he gives show that he’s not completely cold.

But he’s most curious about Akaashi. He’s even quieter than Kenma, but somehow to Tooru he’s the loudest of them all, graceful and mysterious in the way his eyes are always moving, _glowing,_ body littered with shining scales. And he has no idea what he might be thinking, and it _bothers_ him.

(And it makes him feel something else as well, although he doesn’t know what that is either).

“Akaashi. Akaashi Keiji.”

“Hmm? Ah, Akaashi. He’s a bit of an interesting character. Tragic backstory too, although that’s not my place to tell. I’m not sure where to start with him…” 

“Just tell me anything you can.” _Anything to help me figure out what kind of a person he is._

“Weeellll…” Kuroo starts, dragging his syllables while in thought, “have you ever heard a siren sing?”

Tooru snorts at that. “Kuroo, I hope you realize you’re the first other magical creature I met that wasn’t me.”

“I don’t know, thought you might have heard it on the radio or something! There are a couple of part-siren singers in your world, so…”

“Wait, _what?”_ Tooru flinches when the words come out too loudly, and they get a few stares. Oops.

“Yeah. Why do you think people are so drawn to some people? There’s more mixed magic than the government likes to admit.”

“Okay, whatever, i’ll have my existential crisis about this later. We were talking about Akaashi?”

“Oh yeah. Well, we told you Akaashi doesn’t talk, and to respect that, right?” Tooru nods.

“I’m sure you guessed it, but he really doesn’t like how his voice can affect people’s actions, even if it’s unintentional. His powers are… more powerful than your average siren, so he’s had cases where he’s not even singing and he puts people under a spell.”

Kuroo lets out a sigh. “But _damn,_ when he sings it’s an _experience._ He only does it in emergencies, or to calm people down. If you ever get to know him better, you should ask. It’s something you have to hear yourself.”

“Why would I want to hear Akaashi sing?” Tooru wonders what it’s like, wonders if the rumors and stories are true — how their voices can make men drown, how they can make people do things they would never do against their own will. He remembers the scales, and wonders if he has a tail, wonders what he would look like under the moonlight.

Startled at his own thoughts, Tooru shakes them away when he sees Kuroo looking at him strangely.

“Exactly for that reason,” he says mysteriously.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“Your face said all I needed to know.”

Tooru stays silent for a minute. Kuroo just keeps staring at him, as if searching, but for what Tooru will never know. “Is that all you have to tell me about him? That he’s a good singer? Seems kinda obvious, if you ask me," he says, rather than responding to Kuroo's weird jabs. 

“What else do you want me to say? That he prefers jam over butter on toast? Just go talk to him yourself if you’re that curious,” Kuroo says with a sneer.

“Oh, _fine,_ shut up. How long until we get… to wherever we’re going?” Tooru says, crossing his arms and pouting.

“Five minutes. Any other questions you have?”  
  
Tooru closes his eyes and thinks — sure, he has a _lot_ of questions. So many he doesn't even know where to start, what to _say._

 _So he prefers jam over butter…?_ The thought, the _idea,_ that someone as mythical and strange as Akaashi has something so… _normal_ about them has Tooru feeling all sorts of things.

But there’s no fear. He’s not sure when it faded — maybe when he first boarded the train, and sat next to Kuroo. Maybe when he became just another face in the crowd, saw that everyone else was just that: a stranger he doesn’t know. A stranger with a life of their own.

_A stranger._

He cracks his eyes open, and looks at the people around him.

There, a humanoid figure with wings that are tucked neatly behind her, thin and translucent. To his right, a tall man with a rubbery cape draped over his shoulders. In front, a woman with a beak instead of a mouth, fiery-red feathers lining her hair and arms.

But also, he sees a mother calming her child. He sees a tired worker scrolling through his phone. A couple watching the rolling plains pass together.

And there’s also them. A cat-humanoid creature with glowing eyes and a hidden tail. A part human, part _whatever_ who has daisies wrapping around his arm. And then, a smirk, coupled with a terrible sense of humor. His eye-rolls, a light shoves when the other tells a bad joke. 

Tooru blinks, and he realizes that he is no longer afraid. 

“Plenty more,” Tooru says to answer, shutting his eyes again.

He doesn’t elaborate, and Kuroo doesn’t ask him to either. The rest of the train ride is silent, and it seems almost _too_ easy to pretend that he’s back home, back on his side of the world.

_Or maybe, i’m not playing pretend anymore._

His thoughts stir around, jumping and fizzing until Tooru feels enveloped by warm grass.

* * *

While collecting these ‘fire blossoms,’ Tooru learns that Kuroo’s magic is exactly like its user.

Cunning. Playful. Full of tricks and quirks that could easily be used to annoy somebody.

 When they exit the train station, Tooru is met with the sight of what seems to a wide nature reserve, or something similar. The landscape is closer to a desert than a forest, and the unfamiliar, dry plants makes him feel like he’s entered another world (and he’s had recent experience of what that feels like).

“Didn’t know there was something like this so close to  your city…” Tooru says in awe as a tumbleweed passes by. He had been too enraptured by Kuroo’s story to look out the window for the latter half of the train ride, which is when the greenery must have faded away.

“Of course there is. Welcome to the desert!” Kuroo makes a gesture with his hands. “Where you can explore mother nature and most importantly, find rare herbs and ingredients that can’t be grown in other climates.”

“Like fire blossom?”

“Like fire blossom. Come on, I have a seasonal pass.”

 _Seasonal pass?_ Tooru isn’t sure whether to laugh or ask about it.

If Tooru could, he would spend an entire day here. Once they pass through a ticket booth, the expanse opens up to stone pathways that twist off, a large map with the typical _you are here!_ message pasted onto a board at the center of a miniature field.

“Now if you go right this way, sire, we’ll take a short five minute walk to go to the public gardens,” Kuroo says in an exaggerated voice. “Hopefully, you’ll pick up a trick or two as well.”

Tooru sighs and crosses his arms, but doesn’t bother to reply. The walk truly feels short — there are so many things to look at that he can’t help want to walk around, but Kuroo always drags him back to the path.

There are purple cactuses. New life forms of flowers, brown vines growing out of the ground. Surprisingly, there are no animals around. Just plants and different flora that color the sandy earth.

But the little plants along the side of the road seem like mere weeds on the side of the road once he sees the public gardens.

A ginormous glass dome covers what seems to be fields and field of overflowing greenery, purples and oranges and blues popping as petals and leaves. Silvery ivy hangs from wooden beams overhead, mixing with other vines and roots. Succulents of all shapes and sizes line the floor like rocks making a pathway, and Tooru feels like he’s walked into some sort of botanist’s paradise.

 _All hand-picked flora can be paid for at the front of the park,_ reads a sign.

“Amazing, right?” Kuroo says softly, giving Tooru some time. “Fire blossoms this way.”

With a little push, and a few turns, the reach a part of the clearing that has Tooru’s jaw dropping.  
  
Kuroo lets out a laugh. “They’re called fire blossoms for a reason, mate,” he says as he walks towards a patch of ignited flowers.

The actual petals are black, curled into tiny star-like shapes — the beautiful color that radiates from them are from the flames that dance around, vibrant blue that fades upwards into a pure white, constantly shifting and moving and _never burning._

“ _How,”_ Is all he manages to say.

“They’re not _actually_ on fire. I wish I knew the magic behind these petals, but all I know is that it’s a different from mine.”

Tooru wrinkles his nose and gets on his knees to get close, not even caring that his pants are getting dirt over them. “Why would it even be similar to yours in the first place? 

At that, Kuroo looks hurt. “I’m _offended_ . You ask about Akaashi _this_ , Akaashi _that_ , but don’t even know about _my_ magic, the once you’ve interacted with the most!”

“What?! I’ve only asked about him, like, _twice._ And it’s your fault for not explaining your magic to me, other than you being half nekomata half witch. 

Kuroo looks as if he wants to argue more, but just crosses his arms and continues with an explanation. “Well you see, the combination of my genes give me… a sort of, _illusion magic,_ if you will. Although it’s also kinda like shapeshifting, but not…? Because I’m not _actually_ changing form, it just looks like I do.”

Tooru blinks. “I’m not sure I quite get you.”

Kuroo sighs. “Okay, here. Magic… is different for everyone.” Kuroo kneels down next to Oikawa and opens up his palms. Shadowy figures dance around until they form little human-shaped figures. “That means it can be connected to different aspects of a person. Think of it as a part of your body — you don’t _learn_ how to think or breathe, right? It’s just programmed into you. The same way, magic can be programmed into different things, depending on the person. Like you, for example. Your magic is connected to your emotions.”

One of the figures changes, a bit of shadow clearing to show a heart-shaped hole on its chest.

“You channel your magic through how you feel. The more you feel, or maybe if you feel something specific, something grows. Right?”

“Right…” 

“Me? My magic is connected to my being. My state of mind and body, I guess you could say. It’s hard to explain in words…? When I was younger, I had a hard time keeping my image consistent because I was constantly changing. If my physical and mental connection are in a good state, or a bad state, my magic reacts by changing my outer appearance to fit my current condition.

But after learning and training, I’ve not only managed to get almost-perfect control over my appearance when need-be, I’ve also learned how to change the appearance of outside objects, although those illusions don’t last for long, and work better on small objects.

“These flowers? They have their own magic, connected to something of their own. And apparently it creates the strange illusion that they’re on fire, but in reality…”

The shadowy figures on his palm vanish and Kuroo reaches into the flowerbed, but as his fingers lightly skim the petals the flames flicker, like a defective hologram, “... they’re not.”

“That’s—”

“—amazing?”

“Yeah,” Tooru says breathlessly, touching the flowers himself. The petals are cold against his fingers. “Well _actually,_ I was going to say beautiful, but amazing works too.”

“Just shut up and start picking. You just grab them from the base — like that, just follow after me — and gently pull upwards. You want to keep the roots for these they have a lot of good value, and _there._ Just do that about a dozen more times and we can start heading back.”

For a while, they simply sit and pick, the terrarium almost silent, save for distant voices from other visitors far, far away. It’s peaceful, _nice,_ calming, as the flames lick his skin, leaving nothing but a slight chill. Being so close to nature, in a natural way, makes him feel… good. Dare he even say... _happy,_ happy that he found this little gem, in this forbidden world.

“Hey Oikawa,” Kuroo says after a while. “Do you think you could try growing one of these yourself?”

A pause. “I’ve… actually never tried to grow something specific. Usually, when i’m really stressed, random things start popping up. 

Kuroo makes a _tut tut_ sound. “Magic is _never_ random. Try focusing on how you’re feeling right now — and really focus on _just that emotion_ — and try to pull on it. Trust me, there’ll be something else there. Imagine the flower flowing and sprouting from your palms. You’ve been plucking for a while now, right? You know how the stem feels against your skin, how the petals are, how the fire dances.”

“So, what you’re trying to say is… _just feel it out.”_

“Basically, yeah.”

“Gee, _thanks_ for the really clear instructions. I’m really feeling ready now.” 

“Hey, hey, be nice. I did my best,” Kuroo pouts. “Magic is hard to explain. How would you explain something like thinking to someone else, huh? It’s like that. Just shut up and close your eyes or something. We’re not leaving until you get this down.”

Tooru grumbles, but does as Kuroo says, head tilted back, palms gathered on his lap.

He isn’t sure how he knows what to do — one minute he’s patiently just _sitting_ there, trying not to let Kuroo’s stares bother him, and then the next minute, he just _does._ Maybe it’s because this is the first time he’s trying to call on his magic, rather than suppress it.

He imagines the flower first. The thin stem, and how it branches outward like a tree. The white roots that take firm hold of the soil around. The tiny five-petaled flowers that sprout, charcoal black with yellow pollen dotting the wrinkles of the petals. And of course, the flames that start near the branching, a deep ocean-blue that fades into a white close to nothingness.

He thinks of how he was feeling earlier while picking the flowers, how he’s feeling _now._ Serene, peaceful, surprisingly not afraid — the fear melted away with the beauty of the park, the place, the garden. The emotions pound from his chest, the emotions feel _warm_ and _full of life._

Tooru shudders as the warm feeling spreads, all around until it feels like his entire body is buzzing. He starts to shake a bit, a sudden breeze reveals the thought — _what if this makes my magic worse? —_ but a comforting hand blows it away again.

_Focus. Focus. Let it out. Let it out._

_(Trapped, the magic is trapped under his skin, struggling to be set free. But not yet, not yet.)_

He tries to direct the feeling to his cupped hands. Tries to envision the roots taking place along the veins in his palm, slowly spreading upwards.

“Holy _shit_ Tooru, you’re doing it! You’re actually doing it!”

He opens his eyes, then. Tooru can’t help but watch in wonder as his body does the rest of the work — as a tiny stem goes upward and upward and suddenly starts to spread, spread until little dark buds begin to sprout and a small fire starts, dancing around the tips of his fingers. And sudden it’s _there,_ his very own _fire blossom,_ growing and peaceful and altogether _beautiful._  

(It scares him, suddenly. Scares him to have this power in his hands, scares him that he’s actually _enjoying_ it. He should hate it, right? He should hate it, but he doesn’t).

And then, the flower and flames disappear, and that’s when Tooru realizes how tired and sweaty he is. How cramped his legs feel for kneeling for so long.

“I did it,” he repeats weaky at Kuroo, giving a thumbs up.

“I’m proud of you, my young grasshopper.” Tooru protests weakly at the nickname, but Kuroo just laughs it off. “Anyways, we did a lot of work today. We should start heading back. Everyone will be  _thrilled_ to hear what I managed to teach you." 

And  _oh,_ Tooru wonders what this means for him. Will he be able to grow anything at his will, in the future? How much more can he do with himself? He feels dizzy with the idea of discovering a part of himself that was always kept in the dark.  _That's right. I should be terrified right now._

But Tooru has always been somewhat of an egotistical person, and he can't help but feel delighted that he has some semblance of control — that a small portion of his forbidden life is full of something as wonderful as the fireblossoms. 

Kuroo extends his hand. The sun shines through the glass, through the foliage, and illuminates Kuroo's hair. It almost seems to go  _through_ him.  

“Ready?”

Tooru takes it.

“Ready.”

And it’s as simple as that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys can scream at meee on my tumblr @allu-ria come say hi!


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